Braden held up his hand, almost not able to take the truth. “What if I kept working with him?” he asked. “I’ve watched enough of the process here to know how. If I could teach that scent discernment on my own, would you sign that affidavit? Or if I could prove to you it was a cold and not something chronic?”
“I’d need absolute black-and-white proof that he could distinguish smells, and not just once or twice in testing,” his uncle said. “I’d need to see it happen without fail, repeatedly. Then he’d need to come back here and run through all these advanced tests again.”
“If you make some headway with him, I’ll test him again,” Liam said quickly. “And you can test him with other scents as long as they’re food or food-related. Or, of course, an accelerant, which will be his rewarded nonfood scent if he becomes an ADC.”
Not if, Braden thought. When.
“And if you succeed and he tests out,” Uncle Daniel added, “you can bypass the expensive training. But, Braden, if it’s a physiological problem, no amount of training will make him a scent-detection dog.”
His gut twisted. “What would you do?” he asked his uncle.
The older man took a moment to consider his response, as he always did when facing a big decision. “In all honesty, I’d seriously think about a different dog, but,” he added quickly, no doubt reading Braden’s expression, “the other option is advanced, specialized training. However, you’re essentially gambling ten grand, and that’s a high price for failure.”
He glanced down at Jelly Bean, whose keen green eyes looked as if the one word he didn’t understand was failure.
“I don’t have that amount lying around,” he admitted.
“Is there any way the fire department could pay for some of the training?” Liam asked. “God knows it would be a major coup for them to have an arson dog, and you two could farm out to every other fire department in a fifty-mile radius. Maybe Holly Hills and Chestnut Creek could all pitch in?”
No small-town fire department had that kind of cash on hand, and the red tape to get other departments involved would be daunting. “I gotta think about it,” he said, shaking off his disappointment to split a look between the other men. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for him.”
“I wish I had better news, son.” Uncle Daniel’s piercing blue eyes narrowed. “I can keep an eye out for another dog.”
That he would hate.
But Braden nodded and signaled to Jelly Bean to follow him out, not even wanting to look at the other dogs in the pen or talk to any of his Kilcannon cousins who might be around. He just wanted to get home and figure out a way to scare up ten grand. Or prove to his uncle that Jelly Bean’s olfactory system was in top working order and this whole glitch was temporary.
But right at that moment, that seemed impossible.
Chapter Three
A fast getaway was not meant to be, Braden realized as he spotted an oversize U-Haul van that had pulled into the driveway, blocking his truck. Of course, tomorrow Gramma Finnie was moving out. He might not be able to help with the move, but he was here now, so he should offer to do what he could to get her stuff loaded.
Crossing the driveway with Jelly Bean, he spotted his cousins Aidan and Shane heading into the kitchen, both carrying large moving pads that they must have brought from the back of the U-Haul.
The two men disappeared through the kitchen door, and Braden followed, not bothering to knock since Waterford was as much his home as the house he and his two brothers and sister had grown up in together just north of town.
“Oh, hello, lad.” Gramma Finnie was at the counter, putting some utensils in a box, talking to the woman he recognized as the Santorinis’ grandmother and Gramma’s new roommate. The other woman, who looked quite a bit younger than Gramma Finnie, was tucked into the long bench at the kitchen table, each of her arms wrapped around pointy-nosed dachshunds who seemed totally at ease sitting at the table.
“Ladies.” He gave the women a smile. “I can offer some muscle for the move if you don’t mind me letting Jelly Bean in.”
“Of course.” Gramma abandoned her box and came right to him to give him a hug. “Your sweet arson investigator pup is always welcome here, lad.”
The two dogs at the table instantly jumped down, barked, and headed over to sniff the new arrival. “Well, he’s not an arson investigator yet. Maybe…” He blew out a breath, unwilling to finish and distracted by a cream-colored dachshund circling his legs and another, nearly black with a light beige snout, who waddled over with a little less enthusiasm but a mighty wide gut.
“Who are these cute little guys?”
“Well, you remember Yiayia,” Gramma said, lifting her brows. “This is Cassie’s grandmother Agnes.”
He smiled at the description since she was also Alex and John’s grandmother and Katie’s mother-in-law. “Of course. Hello, Mrs. Santorini.”
“It’s Yiayia to you and anyone else in a five-mile radius,” the other woman said. “Unless you’re over seventy and single. Then it’s Agnes.”
He grinned at her, instantly seeing where Cassie got her spunk. “Is that Greek for ‘grandma’?” he asked.
“It is. Also Greek for anything and everything wonderful. And that’s my Pyggie currently making himself at home on your boot, and Gala is the one sniffing your dog’s butt like it’s fresh baklava from the oven.”
He cracked up. “He’s a little wide, but is it fair to call him Piggy?”
“It’s short for Pygmalion, and Gala is short for—”
“Galatea,” he finished. “One of my favorite stories in mythology. I love how Aphrodite brought Galatea to life for her creator.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Well, you’re not just another pretty face.”
He laughed as Gramma Finnie put an arm around his waist and patted his chest with grandmotherly pride. “Braden graduated first in his class in high school and got a scholarship to college. When he was fourteen, he read a hundred books in the Bitter Bark Library and won the Reader of the Year prize.”
The other woman looked suitably impressed. “Oh my, I like a thirst for knowledge.”
The only thing he’d been thirsty for that summer was an escape from reality, but he just gave a humble smile.
“He’s also a heroic firefighter who is always the one to go into a burning building with the hose in hand,” Gramma bragged.
“I like a good hoser,” Yiayia said, letting her gaze cover him like she was the hose and he was the fire.
“And he has been studying to be a handler for an accelerant-detection dog,” Gramma Finnie finished. “Can you tell I’m proud of this grandson of mine?”
“Get a cookie for being so smart.” Yiayia rose and pointed to a tray full of sweets. “My grandson Alex made kourabiedes. Can you cook, too?”
“Not like Alex.” He pointed in the general direction of Gramma Finnie’s third-floor suite of rooms. “Thought I’d go help those guys move whatever you need first. That way, I’ll earn it.”
“But a cookie is good for the heart, lad.” Gramma slid the tray closer. “And I understand yours is broken.”
He gave her a questioning look, wondering if it was time to start letting his family know that he wasn’t that broken up about Simone. Nah, then they’d all want to know what was really bothering him, and they’d never understand that.
“Daniel told me about…” She pointed at Jelly Bean, then tapped her finger to her nose. “’Tis a darn shame ’bout his smellin’ issues.”
Oh, of course. News traveled at lightning speed around here. “Yeah, it is. But I’m not ready to give up. I just need to come up with ten thousand dollars to gamble on him.” He added a rueful laugh. “Maybe I need that cookie, after all.”
“Ten grand?” Yiayia chimed in. “That’s a lot of cabbage.”
“More than I want to scare up.” He reached down to give Jelly Bean’s head a scratch. “But this guy is so close to certification. I don’t want to give up yet.”
/> Yiayia came closer, hands on her hips and brown eyes pinned on him. “What about that Paws for a Cause thing that everyone is talking about? Aren’t there all kinds of people doing crazy contests and events with dogs to raise money for the entire month of June?”
“The fire department has already been roped into something called Date with a Dog, and there’s a firefighter competition,” he told them. “I think the whole department would punch me in the throat if I asked them to do anything else to raise money.”
“Date with a Dog?” Yiayia snorted. “Is this something I want to enter my Pyggie and Gala in?”
“It’s a glorified bachelor auction for some black-tie event at a local winery. You bid on a firefighter and his dog as your date.” He looked skyward, and Jelly Bean swatted his paw on the ground as if he, too, thought being auctioned like a piece of meat and then having to wear a tuxedo as your punishment was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “And anything we raise is going straight toward the new pumper truck.”
Both women moved a little closer, Yiayia openly studying him. “You ought to fetch a few drachmas.”
He managed a smile, not sure if she was serious or kidding. Yep, Cassie in fifty years.
“But, lad, you could do something separate on your own to raise money for yer cause.” Gramma placed a cookie on a napkin and pressed it into his hand. “What would stop you?”
He looked down at the cookie. “I don’t have any idea how to do that.”
“Hmmm.” Gramma crossed her arms and nodded. “Cassie does.”
“Oh yes, she does,” Yiayia chimed in. “She’s not just a catering expert, you know. She’s always talked about managing special events, like parties and luncheons.”
“And weddings,” Gramma added, sharing a bright-eyed look with the other woman. “Cassie will help you.”
“Cassie?” He took a bite of the cookie and hoped that any color that rose to his face looked like a result of how good it was.
“Don’t know if you don’t ask,” Gramma said, heading toward the refrigerator as if he’d asked for the milk that he knew was forthcoming. Because…Gramma.
Yiayia bent over and picked up the smaller of the two doxies, curling the dog into her arms and stroking her head as she stared at Braden with unabashed interest. “Cassie’s doing your sister’s event, you know. And I think she would like more opportunity to showcase her talents.”
“Her…talents.” Which happened to include kissing like she was a one-woman five-alarm fire. He took another bite of the cookie.
“Oh, she is quite a wonderful girl,” Yiayia practically sang. “So she has so many wonderful…connections.”
“Wonderful everything,” Gramma added with a slightly yellowed but totally sweet smile.
“Cassie could be your…” Yiayia frowned. “What do you call it?”
Distraction? Fantasy? Cause for concern?
“Go-between,” Gramma supplied.
“Go between what?” His sheets? He covered the thought with a gulp of the milk she gave him.
“So you don’t have to deal directly with all the things.” Gramma squeezed his arm with her gnarled but always tender fingers.
“I guess I could ask Cassie,” Braden said, finishing the milk as the women shared a quick look, apparently satisfied they’d meddled or fed him enough.
Just then, his cousins came into the kitchen, carrying a dresser between them.
“Dude.” Shane lifted one wry brow at the empty glass of milk in his hand. “Nice of you to come in for your after-school snack while we bust our backsides.”
Jelly Bean barked in doggy defense.
“We had very important business to discuss with him,” Gramma said, her own defense as fast and heartfelt as Jelly Bean’s.
“Don’t worry,” Aidan said. “There’s a recliner up there that has your name on it.”
Braden laughed and started to walk his glass to the sink. “Great.”
“I’ll take that.” Gramma Finnie relieved him of the empty glass and smiled up at him. “Cassie will be here tomorrow to help with the move, lad.”
“I’m picking up a half-day shift and studying for a final in electrical system forensics, which I thought would help as an ADC handler.” But without a canine to handle, why bother?
“Don’t give up,” Gramma said, as if she could read his thoughts. She always was pretty good at that.
“Come to our new house in the afternoon.” Yiayia was suddenly on his other side. “That’s when Cassie is going to be there.”
“It’s on Dogwood Lane, if you can believe that twist of fine fate.” Gramma jotted something on a notepad and tore off the paper. “Here’s the address.”
He looked from one to the other, suddenly feeling like he was in the middle of a grandma sandwich. “I’ll…try.”
“Greeks don’t try,” Yiayia said.
“I’m not Greek.”
“I’m overlooking that.” She gave him a nudge. “Now get that recliner and…” She leaned in. “Talk to Cassie, okay?”
“I’ll think about her…er, it.” Think about her some more was what he meant.
Yiayia raised a fancy drawn-on eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me. Greeks don’t think,” he guessed.
“The country that gave us Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle? All we do is think.” She leaned closer. “And then we act.”
Who knew the need-for-action gene was hereditary?
Gramma eased the other woman away. “Come and visit us tomorrow at our new place, lad. The more family around, the better.”
Yes, family. Which, in some stretch of the imagination, was what Cassie was to him.
But that didn’t stop him from thinking about the idea as he headed toward the stairs to haul the recliner.
“Oh, Finnie,” he heard Cassie’s grandmother whisper as he left. “A cause and a dog. Could it be better?”
Wow, what a sweet old lady to care so much about Jelly Bean. And was she right? Could Cassie help him raise ten grand to help Jelly Bean? Maybe.
Was it worth the low-grade torture of being around her all the time? Possibly.
Would it end up with another one of those blistering kisses? God, he hoped so.
Chapter Four
Standing on a step stool in the basement pantry, Cassie listened to the banter of the two most unlikely roommates as they set up housekeeping. With each exchange that floated down the stairs, the question pressed on Cassie’s heart.
What is Yiayia up to?
After more discussions with Mom, the only answer was no good. Cassie’s mother was low-key terrified that her former mother-in-law was here to screw things up. And it wouldn’t be the first time Agnes Santorini meddled and muddled and manipulated her family into doing what she wanted.
The question was—what did she want? And why was she acting so nice? For a month now, she’d kept up this Sally Sunshine act. Why?
Cassie burned to know the answer and was determined to get it today. Before Yiayia did any of the damage that Cassie and Katie and all the Santorinis knew she was capable of.
“Sweet Saint Patrick, you have a lot of wooden spoons, Agnes,” Gramma Finnie mused. “Who needs more than one?”
“A Greek cook, Finnie. How else do I stir the orzo?”
“And, oh my, you’re going to use this entire cabinet for spices?” Gramma Finnie’s voice rose with dismay.
“And a shelf in the downstairs pantry.” Yiayia let out a soft sigh. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s okay, but spicy food makes my stomach scream unholy words at me.”
Cassie smiled, then froze at the sound of Yiayia’s footsteps, moving pretty quickly considering how steep those stairs were.
“Then cook your own damn…” Yiayia stopped at the pantry door and cleared her throat, staring up at Cassie on the step stool. “Oh, I forgot you were in here.”
“And almost acted like yourself again.”
As she always did now, Yiayia waved o
ff the comment as if she hadn’t even heard it. “I have more olives for you.”
“Because these five thousand won’t be enough.”
“I’m sure we’ll work out the cooking,” Gramma called down to her.
“We will!” Yiayia replied, still holding Cassie’s gaze. And then she added, “It’ll be fun!”
Cassie put the olive jar on the shelf with just a little too much force. “Who are you?” she asked in a hushed whisper.
“Don’t put the kalamatas too high, Cassandra. Gramma Finnie won’t be able to reach them.”
“But you always keep the kalamatas high, Yiayia, so no one can steal them. Including your new roommate.”
“Well…maybe I want to share my kalamatas.”
Cassie dropped down a step. “And maybe Santa Claus wants to wear lavender and come at Easter.”
Yiayia blinked. “That would confuse the poor children.”
“Exactly. Like this one.” Cassie tapped her own forehead. “Totally confused.” She put her foot on the floor, face-to-face with a woman she knew almost as well as she knew her own mother. “When are you going to tell me?”
“About the olives? I would just put them on a lower shelf myself since you’re doing such a lovely job, and I appreciate the help so much.” She added a stiff, fake, but very wide smile.
Cassie leaned in, studying one eye, then the other, doctor-like in her examination. “Did you make a deal with the devil?”
In the harsh fluorescent light of the pantry, it was easy to see Yiayia’s fine Greek skin go a little…green.
“Am I right?” Cassie urged. “Some kind of bet with someone? Or you lost a bet.” She snapped her fingers and pointed. “You lost a bet and have to be nice for a month.”
“Cassandra.”
But Cassie shook her head, knowing her grandmother didn’t gamble. “It’s a man. That Ted guy. You’re trying to get him back from Iowa by showing him how much you really like your family.”
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